What Once Was
by Mercenary Lord
Summary: The Heroes of Light, The Seeker of Darkness: all have all been lost to time. Now, decades later, a new Nobody hatches an audacious plan to change all the worlds, forever. Exton doesn't know if that plan is good or evil, only that his role in it all is larger than he ever expected it to be.
1. Prologue - Moonlight

The world was tired, that night. The songbirds had long since retired to their nests, replaced by insect noises, the hooting of owls, and the rustling wind. The sun, too, had given way to a moon, which shone down from the night sky like a beacon, surprisingly vigorous for a crescent. Rays of mystic light fell upon every surface: the forest, the green-tinted undergrowth, the bubbling brook, streaking in and out of tree cover along the soft brush floor.

Most of the light, however, reflected off the massive fortress among the trees, spiking up into the sky like a mountain. It must have been magnificent at one point: pure white stone, graceful architecture reaching skyward without end, and impossibly sharp angles blending with absurdly smooth rounds.

Now, however, it was little more than rubble, with once-proud spires jutting into the dirt, and fields of whispering glass strewn around the castle's edge. Here and there, miniature rivulets of dark energy swelled into existence and wriggled along the castle's stone, only to be snuffed out almost immediately by the cold caress of the moon.

On one piece of the white mountain, a gaping hole opened up to the environ, positioned far above the trees. It was the largest opening into the castle; only a few smaller holes dotted the blank expanse elsewhere. Within the big hole, almost invisible from an outside view, stood a single, hooded figure. The hole was, in fact, a room: a massive antechamber remaining behind from an era long passed. An era of power and plotting, of light and shadow.

For a time, only nature filled the air, until another figure stepped up from the inky blackness of the indoors. It joined the first shadow with a sense of grave somberness, standing straight and stiff in the moonlight. It was far smaller than the first being, with a lithe and muscular build. It, too, wore a black cloak, though the cowl did little to hide the creature's huge ears.

The two beings stood together in silence for what might have been hours: the moon did not seem to move across the sky as it ought, instead hovering near the horizon, unwavering. The large-eared figure seemed somewhat uncomfortable, shuffling from foot to foot, until finally it could bear the silence no longer.

"Say, pal, are ya sure ya really thought this through?" The diminutive figure's voice was squeaky, high-pitched, yet surely male. "Y'know, the light'll always keep fighting. I just think ya might be jumpin' at illusions."

Silence followed after. The other figure was content to watch that ever-unchanging moon, and made no reply to the small being's comment. For a long time, they stood thus, and only the changing sounds of nature below marked the passing of time. Then the tall figure spoke.

"At what cost, my friend." It was no question. A deeply male voice, simply speaking with years of honed authority. "So much has been lost, for so little gain. Kingdom Hearts, still untamed after so many foolish attempts. The X-Blade, forever lost. And for what? Nothing. So many pure hearts extinguished for nothing." The man laughed, a sort of bitter, barking sound which echoed across the landscape below. "And what of our compatriots? As far as I've encountered, you and I are the only ones who still draw breath. Most were lost to time, or the darkness."

"Not everybody! There's still a few of us travelin' around." The smaller figure looked down at its feet. "We…we tried, pal," it said softly. "And we won, I think. We pushed back the Darkness, like the rest'a the heroes have since before I was born. The worlds are at peace, aren't they?"

"Perhaps, Mickey," chuckled the man. "Perhaps we did. This would be our "happily ever after" then, I suppose. But time has passed. "Happily ever after" is proving to be so…temporary. If any other keepers of light have survived, time has not been kind to them. Although, if you don't mind my saying so, I've never seen you walk quite so slowly."

The smaller figure pushed its hood off, somehow maneuvering the big mouse ears out of the cowl with practiced ease. "I'm not as young as I used ta be, pal. Time doesn't move in the castle, but I've been travelin' the worlds as often as I've been home. I'm just glad my friends an' wife were with me tha whole time." The mouse laughed with a squeak. "At least we're old together!"

The man joined the mouse in mirth. "As full of optimism as ever, Mickey. I suppose I should be thankful: without that…positivity, I expect you would have vanquished me long ago."

"Aw, I wouldn't do that. We're friends, and that's not going to change, no matter what happens!" Mickey smiled up at the still hooded-man, whose posture seemed to soften, even if his face remained concealed. The mouse's cheer faded. "Still, I'm sorry, pal. What's happened to you, it's a real shame. Shouldn't have had ta happen."

"Oh, worry not. This form suits my purposes far better, anyway." The man returned to watching the moon. "I've no fear of time, of age. When I am ready, I will rejoin my heart. I trust that you have hunted it down by now." Again, that decisive tone left no room for a question.

"Yup. It's all taken care of." Mickey smiled, and for the first time the lines in his face revealed the mouse's middle-aged status. "As soon as I heard, we all took care of it together. Your Heartless was a real fighter, but it's waiting for you in the World After."

"Thank you, my friend." The man was as unnaturally still as the white stone surrounding him. "For the longest time, I had no memories of my previous self. Drifting about while the rest of you fought for this world." The bitter laughter from the hood was dry, and pained. "Imagine my dismay when I finally returned to myself, and I realized what I had become."

Mickey put a hand on the man's elbow: it was as high up as he could comfortably reach. "You're all right now, though. Ya have a plan, pal, and ya told me it was going well. I just wanted t'make sure ya knew what you were gettin' yourself into."

"Trust in me, my friend." The man sunk down to his haunches, drawing level with Mickey for the first time. "My plans are proceeding unfettered. I've been…let us say…collecting others. Following the traditions set down by the predecessors as best I am able to. Familiarity makes integrating these newcomers far easier.

"Ya sure it's the best way?" Mickey couldn't hide the doubt from his voice. "We've lost so many good people already. So many of my friends." Very few beings had lived as long as the inhabitants of Disney Castle. "I don't wanna lose any more ta the darkness. I've lost enough ta time."

The man fell into silence again, this time a weighted, calculating silence that broke when he sighed. "No, I am not sure. But it is a way, and I must act eventually. The Heartless are ever restless, and if a Seeker of Darkness arose before, one shall arise again. I cannot allow that to happen. Too much has already been taken from the light, my friend. Taken by time, by darkness, by the greed of hearts and the lust for ultimate power."

Mickey nodded slowly. "Okay, pal, I trust ya," he said. "What can I do to help?"

The man smiled, his mouth just barely visible from eye level. "For now, all I ask is that you return home. Rest. Gather your strength and rally your allies. Someday…someday soon, I will require your aid. The light will need every key it can scrounge for that final confrontation. But until then…" With a flick of his wrist, the man tugged open the fabric of the world, and a portal of darkness grew before them. "Be well, Mickey."

Mickey pulled his hood back up, once again obscuring his features. "I'll see ya soon, pal. Take care." He stepped into the portal. Just as the portal began to close, Mickey whirled around and waved. "G'bye, Maxsen!" he squeaked, as the portal closed.

Alone once more, the hooded figure reached one gloved hand skyward, pointing at the moon. It had finally begun to move across the sky, as if respectfully waiting for the conversation to end.

"Until we meet again, my friend," whispered Maxsen. Then he turned, disappearing into the darkness.


	2. Interlude I

_Then there was nothing. He scrambled back with sudden panic—or was it forward?—everything was black. Everything was darkness. All around him there were sounds of anguish, screams of fear and cries of pain. He slipped and fell—or maybe he leapt up—and his sense of self dissolved into the darkness again. He was fading: somehow he could feel himself slipping away, from the darkness to the nothingness beyond._

 _He tried to scream, but he had no mouth. He tried to struggle, but he had no body. There was only the abyss._

 _And then there was light. Four distinct lights, swirling around one another as they approached. Letters. E. N. T. O. They whirled around him in a dizzying display, criss-crossing and angling every which-way. Then they stopped, and an X of searing brightness shattered the darkness. Two diagonal pillars of light broke the spell, and reality melted into existence around him. His feet touched dirt, his hair felt wind, and a rustling cloak fell to his shoulders._

 _He hit the ground hard, knees collapsing under the unexpected pressure, senses overwhelmed by the sudden surprise of being. He lay there, heaving and coughing and wheezing until he realized that he wasn't actually breathing at all. The tremors wracking his body slowed as his mind cleared._

 _"Rise, Exton." Said a voice. A deep, powerful voice that brooked no disagreement. He froze where he lay. Exton? His name. It must be. He looked up slowly, eyes traveling up from boots, to cloak, to a face hidden by a black cowl, and a hand outstretched._

 _"Greetings, my friend. I am Maxsen. Up, up, you've much to learn"._


	3. Chapter 1 - Awake

Exton's eyes opened slowly, reluctantly. Sleeping was one of the few humanities afforded to the nonexistent. Not hunger, or happiness, or any sort of emotion, really. But even Nobodies had to sleep. Funny how that worked.

He yawned, sitting up in bed with a grumble. The sounds of the forest beyond were as constant as ever, with the birds chirping, and the wind rushing past his little window with a particular vengeance. Normally it was just a whisper, but today the air was angry. Exton groaned, throwing a pillow at the wall, and cursing softly when it did nothing.

"Exton!" said a voice outside his door. "You awake yet? I need some help." The voice was deep and burly, fitting its owner perfectly.

"Yeah, gimme a sec." Exton rolled off the mattress and pulled on his boots: big silver-trimmed things that he still didn't feel quite comfortable in. They were Organization-standard, and no one got special treatment. Maxsen insisted on it, and so they acquiesced.

The heavy metal door melted away from the wall with a mere thought, sinking into a fluid sphere the size of his head, before stretching out with languid grace to form a belt around his waist, where the buckle twisted into the Organization's insignia. At least Nobodies got some useful abilities withthe whole 'half-alive' business.

Standing in the now open door-frame was Braxam, towering over him with a smile on his face. "There you are. Was wonderin' if you'd ever get off that bed of yours." He turned away with his hands in his pockets, only for a long mechanical arm to beckon Exton over. He didn't call himself the Vermillion Mechanist for nothing. "C'mon, let's talk an' walk, hey?"

"Y'see, I've been toyin' with a new system," said the bushy-browed man as they walked along the hall. "I won't bore you with specifics, but suffice it to say it'll make spyin' on the forest a hell of a lot easier. Trouble is, it's gonna need some very particular parts, and since Maxsen said to treat you like you never have anything to do, I figured you'd be just the man for the job. Care to help me out?" Braxam clearly wasn't going to take no for an answer, judging by the heavy robot hand which clapped down on Exton's shoulder. He winced, nodding under Braxam's smiling gaze.

"Terrific!" The machine hand squeezed even harder and Exton grunted but Braxam was already looking away. "Now, one of the pieces I need is a a flight device. Ah, I know what you're thinkin': 'Braxam,' you're thinkin', 'can't you just use a Gummi propeller or whatnot?' And you'd be right, except that Gummi shit don't do the work unless the entire contraption's made of Gummi. In other words, tryin' to attach a single Gummi block to finicky electronics is like tryin' to get Maxsen to take off his hood. It just don't happen. Capiche?"

Despite Braxam's strange-as-ever vernacular, the point got across just fine. "You want me to make you a propeller," Exton said.

"I want you to make me an engine nozzle." Braxam corrected. "I've got the schematics all rolled up for you. They're kickin' around in one of my old contraptions somewhere, but they'll come runnin' if I call. Shouldn't be too nutty to take care of, presumin' you got the good plans and a firm patience. Fact bein', an engine nozzle's probably easier to make than a propeller."

They rounded a corner and they were in the Grey Area—a sort of lounge for the Organization that at one point had probably looked out over the stars. Now, though, it looked into the trees, with the half-shattered windows pointing slightly toward the ground, as if the far wall was about to kiss touch the ground. Still, the chairs were comfortable, and the couches were soft, and everything was bolted down anyway, and the tilt wasn't really all that bad as long as you didn't drop anything that could roll.

"Righto, I'll leave you lonesome for a bit. Give you some time to knock your brain back to proper form." Braxam touched two fingers to his temple, seeming pleased with himself for the decision. "Come by my workshop when you're feelin' particularly metallic, and I'll put you to work. Don't take too long, though, elsewise Maxsen might get a bit cross with you, eh?" One robot hand waved idly as the man departed, vanished around the corner into the dim hallway.

Exton, still nonplussed from the man's words, wandered down the inclined floor to one of the tables. He sat there, glancing around with still more confusion. The room was surprisingly empty for the time of day. It was still early, and normally the others congregated here to get shoot the breeze, get assignments, or share their dreams. Maxsen required them all to share any nighttime adventures they might have.

Exton didn't really see the point: All his dreams were either too blurry and confusing to remember, or memories of events that had already occurred. Maxsen had been there through all of it, so Exton's dreams were next to useless to him. Even when he did dream, Exton still wasn't sure they were his own: one of the Organization's own was Dexer, lord of dreams and nightmares. Maxsen said they were immune to the man's power, but could any of them really trust their dreams while Dexer was around?

"My, but you do look thoughtful."

Exton jolted upright, wrenching around in his seat to see the being behind him floating down. He relaxed slightly when he recognized Wexil. "One of these days I'm going to hit you with something sharp. Stop sneaking up on me! Gives me the creeps when you slink around."

"Boo hoo," said Wexil, still descending. Their hair hung toward the floor, but the rest of Wexil was floating upside-down, fighting and defeating gravity with ease. "The Alchemist Metallic is scared of little old me?" They tilted their head to one side and smiled raucously, finally flipping over to land on the floor with a flourish. "Don't be so morose. You're getting as bad as Lexaeus, and that man hasn't spoken once, ever. What a killjoy, right, Exy?"

"Don't call me that," mumbled Exton, but he couldn't conceal a smile on his face. Of everyone at the Castle That Once Was, Wexil was the one who made Exton feel most welcome. Although the hardest to truly figure out, the androgynous human was witty and quick to smile, which was more than Exton could say about several of the others. "Where is everyone else, anyway?"

"Ah…" Wexil tapped the side of their nose with one long finger, and slowly lifted off the ground once more. "Where, indeed?" they said, slowly spinning backward until their back was to Exton.

"Wexil, c'mon. I've never seen this place so empty around this time. What's going on?" Exton put a hand on Wexil's foot and pulled them back to ground, spinning the being around so that their feet touched the ground first. "Stop yanking my chain."

"Mm…Exton, my dear, any chain I tried to yank you with, you would just turn into a blob. Or something." When Exton folded his arms in determination, the other human sighed. "Fine, fine. Top five are in a meeting right now. Normally I shouldn't know, but Dexer likes me. When everyone else showed up to talk to Maxsen and he wasn't here…well, they all left. Then Braxam left the meeting hall, and I figured I'd go up there—" Wexil pointed to the ceiling— "to see what was up."

"Anything interesting?"

"Mm…no. Not that I'd tell you, anyway." Wexil smiled at Exton's unhidden indignation. "Well, you are the newbie. Why would I tell you these secretive, hush-hush things? Top secret Organization business, I'll have you know."

"I hate you." Exton turned away, wishing he could feel more emotion than just a misty 'irritated'.

"Hmm…I call bullshit. Hate is for the living, Exton. Oh my, look at the time!" Exton turned back to Wexil to see them floating in mid air, legs spread out like a clock. "Better hurry, Exy. Wouldn't want to be late to that meeting with Braxam, would you? Those engine nozzles won't shape themselves!"

Then they floated up into the darkness above, cackling with self-amusement.

"Why do I even talk to them," Exton muttered, standing abruptly to straighten his robes. "What a dick."

"Heard that!"


End file.
